Something Vague
by PiffPoffSplash
Summary: Frodo examines the relationship between Legolas and Aragorn. He also struggles to find his place in the Fellowship. Slash
1. Chapter 1

**Something Vague**  
**Chapter One**

A/N: This story is going to contain some mild slash between Aragorn and Legolas. It's not going to be overly explicit since I'm not quite sure how to write explicit slash stories. Haha. It focuses more on their bond/future with tender moment splashed throughout.

* * *

They work together so smoothly that I sometimes question if they are not the same mind in two different bodies. When Aragorn moves, Legolas dodges. When Legolas shoots, Aragorn ducks. It's a smooth motion. Started by one and finished off my the other. Sometimes, they will call out to each other, give forewarning about an upcoming blow, but usually, no one has to say a word.

I'm useless in battle. There is little else I can do but hide behind something and hope that the enemy doesn't find me. Should I be exposed, I have little chance of fighting off anything that should try to take the Ring. Aragorn tries to stay close but in the heat of battle, he chases after a fleeing orc. I crouch behind some brush, my shoulder pressing against Sam's. We hold our breaths. If we attract the enemy, it will be the death of us.

The fellowship doesn't falter. Even when someone is grazed by the enemy's weapon, they continue fighting. They are true warriors. They are the subjects that make up stories of heros. My skin isn't as hardy. It succumbs to burns by the kettle or scrapes from the bark of trees. Instinctivly, my hand travels to the growing scar on my shoulder. The pain flares whenever I think about it. It's but one scar. I'm sure Aragorn and Boromir have scars of survival littering their bodies.

Aragorn returns to his position after killing the Orc. He and Legolas are only yards away from us. They step in unison as they fend of five orcs. Aragorn pushes forward, giving Legolas time to switch from his bow to his knives. The elf quickly rejoins the ranger. Aragorn pushes into the attack while Legolas defends the blows that Aragorn misses. They each take turns ducking, crouching, and turning; never breaking the pace that they set previously.

It's graceful. They move with such flawlessness that I wonder if they somehow practiced everything in the woods of Mirkwood. When I first witnessed them fight, I passed it off as nothing more than an acquired skill. Weeks of silent watch has taught me something different. It's not their training that makes them such warriors, It's the fact that Aragorn and Legolas trust each other.

Legolas turns suddenly and shoots an arrow into the head of an orc. The arrow nearly grazes Aragorn's cheek but the Ranger doesn't so much as blink. If Legolas is replaced with Gimli or Boromir, Aragorn doesn't have the same calm surrounding him. His eyes show the slightest doubt and depending on the situation, he moves out of the way.

There is a piercing silence when the last orc falls. It's not until Legolas eases his shoulders that Aragorn sheaths his sword. He signals for us to retreat from the cover of the brush. The silence lingers for a few minutes before I dare move from my hiding place. I fear that something might still be lingering in the distance, waiting for the right time to strike. Aragorn turns in my direction when I don't emerge with the other hobbits. With his assurance, we take hesitant steps towards them.

Their breaths are heavy as I approach. The sun reflects off the sweat that is covered Aragorn's face. I almost feel ashamed for having hid throughout the small battle. My hand grips my sword in a futile gesture to match the image of my companions.

Gandalf quickly rushes towards me. He inspects me, almost expecting to find me broken. It almost reaffirms my doubt. I'm not built for this quest.

He grabs my shoulder. "It's a good thing hobbits are accustomed to burrowing."

His smile is enough to ease my nerves for the moment. Peace of mind, however, doesn't stay long. "Are they gone?"

"For now." He squeezes my shoulder before turning his attention towards Aragorn. The two speak of our next move. I look at the two men, getting lost in their conversation. They speak of rivers I've yet to dip my feet into and cities I've never heard of. In the back, Legolas scans for fallen arrows and Boromir and Gimli check the bodies that are scattered around us. It's only me and the rest of the hobbits that stand awkwardly, waiting for instruction.

My eyes follow Aragorn's and while he speaks to Gandalf, his eyes are still focused upon Legolas. He suddenly looks at me and a flush blows across my face. I feel like an intruder caught in the midst of rummaging through someone's closet.

Boromir joins us. "The enemy will be our constant shadow." He looks around him as though he expects more foul creatures to rush towards us. "We must go."

Gandalf nods. "We will continue through the woods," he says.

Continue? The word makes my head heavy. It's all I can do to keep my body from shuddering at the idea.

"Frodo?"

I look at Gandalf and realize he is asking me a question rather than demanding we go. I debate whether the same endurance that flows through them has a place in my veins. I look over at Sam. Hesitation has masked over his face. Passively, he rubs one of his feet with the other, failing at his attempt to give himself a light massage. I feel the same sting in my own feet. Ignoring the pain is a swiftly losing battle. I've gotten this far thinking this was nothing more than a long hike along the Shire's hills but every step brings darkness into my heart and heaviness to my foot.

"We continue on," I say, though I know not where the answer comes from. "We will camp just before it grows dark." The words seem foreign on my tongue.

Legolas nods. "I shall scout ahead, least the road be unfit for our hobbit friends."

Aragorn grabs the Elf's arm. "Careful, friend. We don't know of the dangers that may be awaiting us."

"Then I shall become part of the shadow," Legolas answers. He looks at Gimli. "It's best that I fall upon our enemies with stealth and our presence is not given away by the footfall of the dwarf." With that, Legolas is off.

My decision is not argued. Within moments of Legolas' departure, we continue on through the wood. It's been a few weeks since we departed from Rivendell. Since I somehow mustered that I would take the Ring to the Mountain. I still can't say where that bravery came from. Every night of sleeping on the cold ground sets the reality of all this a little deeper.

Sam and I walk to the side of the group, keeping a slight distance from the others. His breath is beginning to grow heavy and he fumbles with his pack.

"Evening will come shortly," I say, trying to sooth his exhaustion.

"And then morning will come shortly after that," Sam responds. He bites his lip, then adds: "I'm sorry Mr. Frodo, it's just that I've never walked this far in my life."

"I know Sam, but we must keep up with the others." There is no comfort I can give him at this time.

We are rejoined by Legolas moments later. He offers good tidings of the road ahead. Our pace becomes more lax. However, even the promise of a safe road ahead of us does not rid us of the silence that has accompanied us since we left Lord Elrond's land. Everyone is listening for possible warnings of the enemy. Aragorn walks with a slight tilt of the head. He's inviting the forest to give him warnings of things to come. Such a strange ability to rely on nature. Beside him, Legolas surveys the path before us. Even now, they are working together. Both are allowing the other to focus on a particular path.

My finger's gentle stroke the ring as we continue on silently. Aragorn's eyes are steadily watching the trees in front of us. He walks with ease and it allows me to relax. I look to my right and watch as Merry and Pippin lightly joke with one another, seemingly oblivious to their exhaustion and the task at hand.

They look so fragile compared to the Gimli and Boromir, we all must. For a moment, I feel panicked. Who are we to walk amongst such valor? While we forged for carrots in the dirt or picked at Farmer Maggot's crop, our companions were out fighting for their land, skillfully becoming men of honor.

These men look to me for orders.

Suddenly, my fatigue becomes apparent. I feel a sting growing in the middle of my eyes and my shoulder's burn from the straps of my pack. The sun is setting but evening will not come soon enough. Before I know that I'm talking, I say: "We should rest."

Everyone slowly comes to a halt and I'm silently begging everyone is secretly as tired as me. Gandalf meets my gaze and nods. "So be it, ring bearer."

"We have much road to travel," Boromir says, "we should not give up what remaining hours we have."

Aragorn drops his pack and begins to make a small clearing, "If Frodo wishes to rest, Boromir, then we shall make camp."

"No good has ever come from exhaustion," Legolas says.

Boromir has been watching Legolas and Aragorn with a curious stare since Legolas' outburst at the council. He almost seems weary in their company. "Then we shall rest," he says.

Aragorn and Gimli set out to collect firewood. I feel a flush growing upon my face, never having been the one to cause such quarreling between others. I wish to say something to ease the tension but my heart is empty of wise words. I sit down in defeat, suddenly feeling at odds with those around me. Though it's not quite dark, I undo my bedroll. I fall asleep before wood for the fire is brought back to camp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Something Vague**  
**Chapter Two**

The sun still slumbers when I am awoken by a shrill cry. A hand firmly grasps my arm and I yell before I realize that it is Boromir pulling me behind him. The hobbits are huddled near me, swords draw though they tremble in their unsteady hands. The camp is empty save for my present company. I need not question the origins of the cry for Sting is glowing blue in my hand.

"Stay near," Boromir says, no trace of fear to be found in his steady voice. His hand painfully grasps mine. He begins moving us away from the cries. There is no trace of Gandalf or Aragorn. Guilt rubs against my chest as I realize I do not feel safe in Boromir's presence.

Boromir moves us near a large rock and stands at ready. We stay frozen until two orcs rush through the trees. Boromir pushes me back and rushes to meet them. He trips one and runs his blade across the chest of the other. Before he can turn towards the other, it grabs its dagger and cuts his thigh. He falters but two arrows lodge themselves in the neck of the creature before it can do more damage.

Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli walk out of the woods. Their weapons coated in the black blood of those vial creatures. A nervous peace settles over us after creatures fall. I keep my back pressed against the rock until the others are near.

"Damned elf," Gimli grumbles as he plops himself on a rock, not bothering to wipe away the sweat that is sliding down his face.

"Next time, I shall let the blade follow through. If an orc cuts your head off, it will not be a long fall." His irritation apparent as he brushes pas the Dwarf.

"Falling in battle would be more of an honor than being saved by the likes of you."

"You're injured," Gandalf says to Boromir. His statement quickly ends the argument.

"It is not deep." Boromir answers.

"It still needs tending, come." Legolas says. He quickly observes the wound before grabing some weeds from his pack. I would quickly overlook them if I ever passed them in a forest.

Legolas begins to clean Boromir's wound. There is still no sign of Aragorn. Everyone's ease clearly takes away the need to worry but I still find myself glancing from the woods to Gandalf. "Aragorn?" I ask, doing little to hide the concern in my voice.

"He is making sure no other spies are lingering in the wood."

My trust in the Ranger came swiftly. It was Aragorn's guidance that saved us from the Ringwraiths at Bree. Almost faithlessly, we followed him through the wilderness. Not one for gambling, I couldn't have taken a better risk. Along with Gandalf, he has proven himself as a vital companion. Without him, I could not think of completing this task. In his company, I feel as though we will make it through this madness.

Around us, the curtain of deep blue covering the sky is lifting. My breath floats in the air before me like a ghast. The closer we move towards the mountain, the colder it becomes. I've never been fond of the cold. I was sure to have an extra coat on during chilly mornings and here, I am walking straight towards the cold of the mountain before us. With each step the reality of our quest sets in deeper. Though we've overcome various enemies since leaving Rivendell, the mountain marks the end of any hope of peace.

I return to the company of the Fellowship. Legolas is still cleaning Boromir's wounds. Pippin watches from behind the Elf, as though this was a play being put on in the Shire.

"Such delicate fingers for one so adapt at archery," Boromir says. Legolas stills for a moment but continues clean the wound.

"Such a deep cut for one so adept at combat."

The silence is broken by Boromir's laugh. It is a welcome sound. Even Legolas cannot contain his smile. My cheeks betray my frightened body and pull my mouth into a grin of its own. Humor, no matter how light, has become too rare upon this journey.

Would we bother finding such common ground if it wasn't for this quest? I can't think of a scenario where we would have all come together. Though we are linked by common companions, our lives would have been lived without so much as passing a word. Yet, we all find ourselves here. I will not lie and say I do not feel as though it is a privilege to be among such company. Even if it was brought upon by dire times.

"Legolas," Aragorn says as he emerges from the woods. He watches the two joke before continuing. "Those wounds need to be treated quickly." He seems angered by something though I cannot figure out what. "If you keep tarrying, perhaps I should finish the job?"

Legolas stiffens. "Should I let you handle everything? Or just matters dealing with others?"

Aragorn breaks eye contact with the Elf. He focuses on retightening his arm bands. When he speaks, he addresses Gandalf. "I fear some orcs may have escaped. They could be regrouping. It would be wise to make haste before the sun sets."

Legolas does not look at Aragorn again until he finishes dressing Boromir's wound. It is a challenging look, yet Aragorn does not look away. It is not until Gandalf gathers everyone's attention that the pair end their battle. After a short debate about our path, Gandalf signals that we should continue. He holds Legolas back by his shoulder. I walk a distance before them but do not leave earshot.

"Legolas, you are more wise than to aggravate him."

I turn to see Legolas blush. "He brings it upon himself."

He places a hand upon the elf's shoulder. "These games are too lengthy for a human heart."

"This is not a game, Gandalf."

"Wise as he may be, Estel is still human. And being such, he is bound to act upon rash emotions. You can expect no less from him."

"I am well aware of that, Gandalf." He seems bitter about something. "Though, if he chooses to allow himself to be guided by rash emotions, he shouldn't watch me so."

"You hold much resentment for something you are guilty of, as well." Gandalf almost sounds playful.

Legolas nearly trips over his words. "Watched, yes." He speaks slowly, almost thinking of the best way to phrase his sentence. "Though I did not interfere. I do not deny witnessing the exchange of the pendent, if only to seek out confirmation of it. I did not chastise him for his decision. A decision that rests coolly upon his neck."

Gandalf smiles. "You still wear your youth like a shield. You knew what actions your rejection would set in motion." Gandalf cuts Legolas off before the Elf can speak. "Come," Gandalf says, "We must walk in haste. I fear we have reached the point in our journey where safety will no longer follow. Be on alert, young princeling. Your senses must be sharp, focused on the task at hand." Gandalf walks quickly ahead. Legolas stays behind, allowing Gandalf's worlds to linger between them.

Gandalf slows his pace once he is near me. He places a hand upon my back as though he is an old man in need of support. "You are tense," he says.

I cannot remember when I have been disconnected with such tension. "I froze when I saw those orcs." I keep my voice low, unsure of what I want to say; of how I am feeling. "We could have done something to help Boromir." It was only a small wound. The blade could have easily been poisoned. Or a larger sword could have been used. These men have sworn to protect me and I leave them vulnerable.

"You are no warrior Frodo and I hope you never become one." He turns to make sure Legolas is following. "For their hearts often turn hard."

I make sure to keep up with his pace, though it is faster than I would prefer. He glances at me periodically. Sometimes, he turns as if to say something but thinks better of it. There is little use in hiding things from is wiser beyond many that walk Middle Earth. He easily senses my unease. To my relief he does not pressure me into saying anything more.

I focus my attention on the source of my unease. Boromir. He walks along side Aragorn. The two humans seem to be engaged in a debate. Boromir wishes to take Aragorn to Minas Tirith. The path would separate Aragorn's from my own. While I trust my companions, to loseAragorn would be to lose a great sense of stability. However, it would ease my heart to be parted from Boromir. His interest in the Ring concerns me. As well as his power. If not for his outburst at the counsel, I would be glad to have him at my side. His words, however, made me guess at his motives. There is something about his gaze that frightens me. It is as though he does not look at me but at the Ring itself.

By midday, we ascended the mountain. No one foresaw the hardship. The snow was too deep and the valleys beyond promised no relief. Our path had been captured by the enemy. Not even Gandalf could hold back saruman's power. It was not long before we were forced to turn back. Had I known what awaited us, I would have chosen to push forward. My decision could have saved Gandalf.

I hug my legs closer to my body. Nausea is making its way up my throat and I swallow hard. Once we entered the mines, there was no turning back. Gandalf's fate was sealed once we passed through the doors. I close my eyes and replay the scene in my head:

The bridge swayed backwards. Aragorn gripped me tight but I had come to terms with my fate. The jump was too large to make and we were only being pulled further back. Legolas yelled Aragorn's name but my gaze was locked on Sam. Where was the Shire? No life grew in the cave, just the darkness that stemmed from the disgusting creatures that lived there. Another pound, the Balrog pushed towards us.

The rock swayed forward, bringing us towards our companions but it brought me no ease. Suddenly, Sam's arms were upon me and I was reminded of the smell of Bag End, and ales at the pub. I was torn away from his embrace far too quickly. We were pulled toward the bridge, towards Gandalf's fall.

I do not remember the moments after Gandalf was dragged from the bridge. Simply hands around me, pulling me out of the darkness and into the fading daylight. The air is still. No trace of the drums can be heard. It is not a welcome silence. It is one of sorrow. No one moves. It is as though we have been defeated. How could mere children defeat such ancient evils of the earth.

Boromir collapses onto the gravel. For all his muscles, he looks as vulnerable as a child. We stay near the rocks. Everyone is watching the opening of the cave, silently hoping Gandalf will emerge from the darkness. Nothing stirs. The only sound comes from the sobs of our party. Gandalf has been lost to the darkness.

How are we to continue without him? I look up to see Aragorn walking away from the group. His shoulders are slouched as though he, himself, has been defeated. For the first time, I realize how vulnerable we really are. How could mere children defeat ancient evils of the earth?

Aragorn rejoins us. His face is pale, bringing out the creases that are starting to appear on his face. "Boromir," he says with unfocused eyes, "get them up."

"Give them time," Boromir says. His voice is hollow.

They speak of us as though we are not here.

I look at the cliffs besides us. If I throw the Ring down a crater, I will be rid of it. I can pretend none of this happened. Just tuck myself into my own bed and wonder if this is the day that Gandalf will come. Only, Gandalf will never come. Only agents of the Dark Lord will come. I cannot rid myself of this Ring. It will suck everything out of the world.

Legolas puts a hand on Pippin. "They are in no state to be rushed along, Aragorn." He pauses. Neither are you."

"If we stay, we will be overrun by the enemy." Aragorn says. His words are harsh. There is no argument. The Mines took the last of our strength.

Aragorn wipes his sword. It's as though he is cleansing himself from the gloom of the mines. surveys everyone scattered about the rocks. "Legolas, get them up," he says. He ignore the protests of others and his orders are quickly followed by the others.

Numbness settles in my stomach as Legolas gently lifts me. It's as though his touch sucked all my innards from my being. Though I cry, the tears are nothing more than a soft rain during a summer evening, unnoticed but for the moisture it leaves on your skin. Where is the sunlight that graced me with Gandalf's visits? The sky is turning gray and I fear it will no longer rise with a new dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Something Vague**  
**Chapter Three**

Our retreat from the mountains is somber. Not only were we defeated, we lost our leader. The Fellowship is no longer complete. The hobbits cling together, quietly crying for Gandalf and trying to keep up with the vigorous pace Aragorn has set for us.

Boromir and Legolas keep back, making sure we don't fall too far behind the ranger. I continue to glance back, praying that Gandalf will come running from the rocks. What if we simply did not wait long enough? He couldn't face the enemies alone. Every time I try to slow my pace to give Gandalf more time to catch up to us, Boromir gently pushes me forward. Every time I look back, I only see the tip of the mountain. There is no sign of the tip of Gandalf's hat among the hills that we are leaving behind.

It's the most painful wound I have yet to encounter upon this journey. Every mile makes the truth burrow in deeper. Gandalf will not return to ease my pain. He will not ease my weary shoulders, or allow me time to dry the growing sweat from my forehead. Gandalf is gone.

This ring, the cursed thing has claimed its first victim. How long until another member falls victim to the growing darkness? They have offered me their aid and in turn, I offer them death. I look at the hobbits, did I pluck them from their green gardens just to see them pale and stiff before me? How can I continue with them by my side if my path only leads to a grave.

A weight begins to pull at my neck. It drags my feet into the ground. The necklace that holds the ring grows tighter, threatening to take my very breath away. What if I were to succumb to the darkness? Would it offer any peace? The necklace grows even tighter. How can fighting for the good that is left in this world bring so much pain? How long until I am crying over Sam or Merry? Will I be forced to say goodbye to anyone else I love?

Aragorn keeps the pace swift and I find myself unable to breath. My eyes dart from member to member. I am their death. It comes crashing upon me. To follow me is to accept that you may never go home again. My eyes keep jumping from the hobbits to the humans, to the dward, to the elf. They can't focus on anything. Everything blurs together. I reached out to Sam for support but before he can catch me, I find myself upon the ground. The world swirls around me. I hear their voices but I cannot see anything.

"We must get him up," Aragorn says as the panic begins to leave my body.

"He needs rest," Gimli responds. He keeps one hand on my shoulder, making sure I do not try to get up. "We are pushing them too hard."

In a bizarre act of support for the dwarf, Legolas agrees. "You are pushing them too hard." He emphasized the "you" as he meets Aragorn's gaze.

"There is no time to waste," Aragorn snaps. "Can either of you say you have the strength to fight off the enemy? To stay is to risk death." Aragorn looks at the woods before us. They are in sight but I fear I will not be able to make it. I meet Aragorn's gaze and see the grief clutching at them. He kneels down beside me. "Frodo," he says gently, "I know this is difficult but we must push onward. We do not have the strength to fight the orcs that will be upon us shortly."

"I know," I say. It is a crushing truth. There is nothing I want more than to stay on the ground but Aragorn is right. We are still in the enemy's grasp. The peace I would find here is a fleeting one.

Though shaky, I stand. Boromir grabs my pack and I silently thank him for relieving me of at least one burden. We march on until we reached the golden woods. Our passage is not well accepted at first. However, we are soon allowed access to the Golden Woods. It is as though the trees offer me their strength. I find my shoulders straightening, my spirits lifting. The rejuvenation, however, is mixed with melancholy.

Though I do not recognize the song, the wood still mourns for Gandalf. The Fellowship came together in our grief last night, but today, we separated. Sam and I follow Legolas through a ticket of branches. He walks nimbly amongst the trees, easily avoiding the twigs and branches that catch my cloak and stick into my feet. He walks slowly and eventually, I come to realize that we have no destination. Unlike our previous environment, there is no need to think about dangers that could befall you. Everyone is free to walk idly here. The elf is taken advantage of this rare treat. Legolas is absentmindedly allowing his feet to forge a path for him in these unfamiliar woods.

"Think he's heard us?" Sam asks as he untangles his sleeve from a branch.

"I don't think so," I answer.

In any case, I put my hand on Sam and allow Legolas to continue on a few feet before I continue after him. I don't know what I seek in the company of Legolas. Maybe I seek him because his presence calms me. His voice wraps me in the warmth of the sun and I find myself able to forget my grief. Maybe I seek him because of the words Aragorn spoke to me last night.

I sat with Legolas in a calm quiet. It was as though we were suspended from time. Separated from our present grief and anxieties of the future. Aragorn's approach caused the departure of the elf.

"He's angry," Aragorn said after a moments time.

"Will he stay angry long?" I asked.

Aragorn plucked a long blade of grass from the ground and gently bit the end. "He usually doesn't." He spoke with the assurance of knowing the elf well. He nibbled on the tip of the grass for a few seconds before he continued to speak, "It's difficult to read him." Worry laced his words. "It is not wise to grieve inwardly."

I'm sure Aragorn did not mean for me to seek out Legolas. However, as soon as the sun peaked through the trees, I set out looking for the elf. While Sam decided to join me, there was little hope in trying to find an elf who seeks solitude It is not until midday that Sam and I stumble upon him near a river. He walks good distance before he decides to sit down.

Our journey from the mines to Lorien remains a little vague, but I all too clearly remember the look of grief on Legolas's face. It still holds his face captive and my heart aches for the loss this trip has caused everyone. I have no words of wisdom to offer but I would like to offer something to make up for the pain. Even if all I can offer in silent companionship. Legolas stops and perches himself upon a rock. He cocks his head back and allows the sun's rays to bathe him. Sam snaps a twig and Legolas looks in our direction.

"You surprise me, hobbits." Legolas says as we walk towards him. He smiles and yet, I can feel his grief flow off him like melting snow.

"We apologize, Mr. Legolas," Sam begins to stutter, "we don't mean to intrude-"

"We did not think someone with your senses could be surprised," I say, gently cutting Sam off and ending his stammering. We've been with the fellowship long enough to do away with formality and yet Sam still feels uneasy around the group. I cannot help but smile.

Legolas gestures for us to join him. He slips down from the rock and seats himself upon the ground. With his eyes closed, he entwines his fingers into the grass. I've often wondered just how connected elves are with the world. Does he feel anything more than the slight tickle of the blades?

"My senses have been overtaken by other matters," Legolas says after a moment's time. "I cannot say why, but these golden woods offer me relief that I have not felt since we left Rivendell." Though we are divided by race, distance, and lives, we can come together through the mutual feeling of being homesick.

"I never thought I would see these woods," Sam says, resting his hand upon his knee. "And yet, here I am." He sounds bewildered, unable to comprehend the fact that his path has led him here. He stops short, as though embarrassed for seeming vulnerable.

I place my hand upon his. "It's okay, Sam. I don't think any of us meant to stray so far from home."

Legolas regards us with a cool gaze. "You will see your home again, Sam." There is certainty in Legolas' voice but I cannot help but question how he can know such a thing.

"How do you know?" I ask. I'm surprised at the weakness of my own voice.

"You may never know for certain, but your faith will help guide you back to your home."

Sam fidgets, finding no ease in the elf's words. "What if there is no home to com back to?"

"It is hard to see the light in these time of darkness," Legolas responds, "but if we continue to fight for the things we love, then we will not loose."

His words bring hope to my heart. My eyes close. The Shire grows out of the darkness. It is a festival. Everyone is sitting under the stars. There's a strong sent of ale in the air and people are singing. Somewhere, Merry and Pippin are ponies too much sugar and Bilbo is telling his story to a group of children. This is my home. It is what I am fighting for.

A shadow obscures my vision. I open an eye to see Aragorn walking towards us. The elf stiffens as a deer unsure whether to flee from an approaching predator. There is no weariness in his eyes but he grows more uncomfortable with every approaching step of the ranger.

Before Aragorn can speak, I excuse myself and Sam follows after me. Sam continues towards camp to make dinner. I begin walking with him but stop as Aragorn approaches Legolas.

"I admire the hobbits," Legolas says.

Aragorn looks around him as though trying to decide where the right place to sit is. He steps towards Legolas, then hesitantly takes a step back before he sits. "They prove to be hearty, indeed."

Legolas picks up a twig and beginnings playing with it. "I must admit that I thought they had no reason to accompany us on this quest." It seems that he is merely allowing himself to think out loud. "What business do they have being away from their fields and warm meals?"

Aragorn leans back, allowing his hands to support his weight. I hardly recognize the pair in front of me. Dressed in the casual clothing of the elves instead of their usually armor, their loyal weapons no where to be seen. It almost feels as though I have stumbled upon a time before the Fellowship was created, back to the days when Legolas and Aragorn were merely companions admiring the beauty of woods rather than the warriors they have grown into.

Legolas tosses the stick away. He examines the brown markings it left behind on his hand. "Yet," he continues softly, "their destiny brought them here. Yes, they chose to accompany us, but it was their destiny that directed them to do so."

Aragorn nods. He seems unaware of how to answer the question. "They surprise me everyday." He says, hastily. It becomes clear that Aragorn's mind is not focused on the subject at hand.

They look at each other and fall silent. Legolas plays with strings of his boot and Aragorn shifts about as though uncomfortable in his clothes. "I'll understand if you chose to leave me here," he says abruptly. He winces, probably wishing he did not speak so soon.

"If I did not wish to be in your presence, I would ask you to leave." Once again, Legolas emphasizes the word 'you.' He then adds, "I won't lose any more of my spots to you," as though to ease the blow.

Aragorn laughs. His weariness seems to melt away in the company of the elf. "Forgive me, I did not know that elves were so keen on their privacy when I was a child."

"It is good to hear your laugh again," Legolas says.

"And it is too long since I have heard yours." Aragorn says. "These times have been too grim." He looks at the ground. "Legolas, I am ashamed of how I spoke to you."

"It was simply grief," Legolas says. There is no trace of anger in his voice.

"I've tried to bring you here countless times."

"You have."

"Not once did you accept," Aragorn says in mock rejection.

"Not once did my father allow for such a long journey."

"I knew you would fall in love with the beauty of these woods. I wish we had time to enjoy their beauty in peace."

"You do not speak your mind, Estel."

"I was going to bring you here the day you rejected my companionship." He speaks slowly like he is testing the ice before he treads upon it.

Legolas sighs. "Aragorn," he says wearily, "this is not the time to speak of this." He suddenly looks tired. "Must we sit troubled below these golden leaves when another grief has already passed through our hearts?"

Aragon does not respond right away. "It does not have to cause pain."

"Not if we do not speak about it again," comes Legolas' reply, though it does not seem to be the one Aragorn had hopped for. The man begins to move away but a hand on his forearm stops him. "Aragorn," he says gently, "there can be nothing more between us then what we have now; kindred spirits resting among the trees." His voice lacks authority.

Aragorn picks up on his uncertainty. "If I thought you were telling me the truth, I would never speak about it again."

Legolas allows his hand to fall away from Striders. "I speak the truth," he says, though he does not sound convinced. "I do not regret what happened between us but you ask for something I cannot offer."

"Nay," Aragorn says, almost forcefully. He places a hand under Legolas' chin and makes the elf look him in the eyes. Were Aragorn anyone else, I feel as though their hand would not make it to their destination. "You will not."

The elf removes Aragorn's hand. "I don't have the bravery of your beloved. Even if I did, I could never offer you such a gift. I grieved for your heart when we parted but what council could I offer? Would you bound me to death or a life of solitude when you pass from this earth? Happiness would come but it would pass like the beauty of a flower. I can't face that destiny."

Aragorn touches the pendant upon his chest. "You are a brave warrior, Legolas. If only your feelings where as steady as the aim of your bow."

"What is it that you would have me say? Confess my love and turn my back on the destinies that have been paved before us?"

Aragorn stiffens. "I don't know," he admits. "I simply ask that you do not cast aside everything that has happened before us." Aragorn caresses the back of Legolas's neck.

The elf closes his eyes. "I have never. Aragorn-" he says, almost in warning.

Before he can continue, Aragorn places his lips upon the elf's. Legolas does not freeze, nor does he respond. He allows Aragorn's lips to linger upon his own until the human moves away.

"You are stubborn indeed, master elf," Aragorn says. "But you forget that I know you."

I watch Aragorn walk away. There is a smile on the human's lip. He almost looks like a child that knows he has won a game. When I turn back to Legolas, I find myself looking directly into his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Something Vague**  
**Chapter Four**

The wind stirs, blowing the confusion off of Legolas' face. Though he tries to regain his composure, there is still a look of bewilderment that will not be wiped off with the breeze. Slowly, his expression grows as stoic as the trees around him. He glances back to the area that Aragorn was standing mere seconds ago. I can see the muscles in his body contracting as the battle between his mind and body continues.

I remain rooted to the ground. Though he knows of my whereabouts, I can't convince my body to move out of the shadow. There are no signs of anger over my eavesdropping, only a shadow of the wise resolve I have seen in Elrond's face during my stay with the Elves. I have no doubt that he wants to go after Aragorn but I know that he means not to.

"You will just let him go?" I don't know where the bravery to ask such a question comes from. "You must go after him."

Legolas looks back in Aragorn's direction. He does not question why I watched nor does he show any embarrassment over being caught in an almost intimate exchange with the human. For a second, I almost think he will listen but my words pass him by.

"There is nothing that I can do." His voice is too soft for me to believe him.

He walks towards me, regaining his composure as though his exchange with Aragorn was nothing more than a meeting with an old friend who has long been forgotten. "We should return," Legolas says and does not wait for a reply before he begins walking. I linger for a few moments before I hesitantly follow. There is no sign of regret in him but I almost feel it in the air around us.

The silence becomes unbearable. "Do you think he is hurt?" While it may be silly, I never thought of Aragorn as someone who could experience pains of the heart. Maybe by a sword or arrow but never by another being. Suddenly, I find myself wanting to protect him from his battle.

Legolas waits for a long while before he answers. "Aragorn and I have been friends for a long time, Frodo." He speaks slowly as though he is picking his words carefully. The wisdom of the Edlar embeds itself in his voice. "I have learned long ago that you can't always spare your friends pain."

Immediately my mind drifts to Sam, Merry, and Pippin. It is a different pain entirely but I know all too well the feeling of bringing suffering upon your friends. To break their hearts by tearing them away from their homes and everything they knew with no promise of ever seeing anything again.

The forest around me begins to grow duller as my mind continues down its path of thought. They have shed more tears and witnessed more exhaustion then ever before. While they will deny it, it is all on account of me. My decision to take the ring bound their fate to this treacherous path. Their loyalty bid them to follow me to Buckland and beyond.

I must now suffer and watch as their skin becomes bruised, as their once soft hands becomes marred by the weapons they carry. I can offer no solace as they shed tears for loved ones lost and can offer no words of encouragement to fight away the fear of their own deaths. I must pretend to miss the look of vulnerability in Sam's eyes, as he silent asks me when we will be returning home.

Sam, whoes wanderlust never took him passed the edges of the Shire. I understand all too well the feeling of taking too many steps away from him. The gloom that perches upon your shoulder with the realization that you may never return home. Even if you do, you may never return to the person you were, to the peace of mind that never strayed too far away from your home.

At least Merry and Pippin are accustomed to the vagueness that comes along with being away from home. Yet, I'm sure they never expected to come so far. At times I swear that I can see anger etched in their eyes. They all must blame me from taking them away from our hills and barrels of Old Toby. How long until they resent me?

What is worse, I think they are growing envious of the ring. I see their eyes lingering on me when they think I am not looking. They say they are concerned for my well being but I see the shadow growing in their eyes. They are fools if they believe that they will come to possess the ring. Without causing too much noise, I cup the ring delicately in my hand. It will remain safe only in my hands.

Legolas is now many steps ahead of me. I feel my chest constricting, my throat closing. He doesn't look back to make sure I'm following him. How long until he leaves me behind for good?

My pace is slow and yet, I can't catch my breath. Terror seizes me but as I begin to call out, the ring seems to pull tighter around my neck, preventing me from making a noise. My hand clutches a tree but it does little to support me. I feel darkness closing in on me again. In the distance, I hear Legolas call out Aragorn's name and before I cry for help, I succumb to the growing darkness.

It's dark when I wake. My breath is calm again and the ring is light around my neck. A small fire caresses my cheeks, massaging away the tension and growing exhaustion. It must be our second night in Lorien and I find myself wishing to stay. There is peace here that I have not felt since I left the Shire. Though, if I close my eyes tight enough, I can also smell Old Toby and hear Merry and Pippin singing about joys that we have long since left behind. My eyes, however, refuse to stay closed and I can not return to the memories of the Shire.

I take a deep breath. All the darkness seems to have fled my thoughts but I still feel the shadow heavy over my head. It has been stalking me since Bilbo left the ring in my possession and is starting to become bold with its attacks. How long until I can't fight it any longer? I shiver, no longer feeling warmed by the heat.

The fire pops and my eyes focus on Aragorn and Legolas. They are sitting across from me, mere inches apart from each other. They are tense as though a stranger has sat down between them. The Man seems to be absentmindedly stroking the pendant that hangs from his chest.

"Can there really be no happiness?"

Legolas stares intently at the fire. "What happiness can there be in separation?"

"Do your Elf eyes see so far that they can't focus on what is near?" There is almost a hint of laughter in his voice.

Legolas ignores the question. "I can't make you understand." He sounds jaded, almost tired.

An uncomfortable silence befalls them. I think of stirring to end the silence but my body finds the warmth of the fire too soothing, the blankets that surround me too soft.

Aragorn takes out his pipe and admires it for a few seconds before continuing the conversation. "You are beginning to sound like Elrond," Aragorn says and it makes them laugh. It is not laughter bred of happiness but of bitterness. The laughter is short lived and Aragorn pushes onward. "I only speak of the present," he replies, "because that is all I have to speak of." Aragorn almost sounds as though he is facing down an enemy. As if to soften his previous statement, he places a hand upon the Elf's shoulder and gently trails it down until it rests upon Legolas' hand.

How different their struggle is then my own and that of the Hobbits. I wonder if Aragorn understands the feeling of being torn from him home, forced to travel a dangerous path when all he longs for is a warm bed. It makes me realize how little I know of those who have sworn to protect me.

I know he resided in Rivendell but he wanders the woods and calls the sky above his ceiling. How many times have Legolas and Aragorn rode out together with no destination and no plan on getting home. Nothing but the woods to guide them. Not even the fear of Orcs and other fell beasts deterred them from wandering about strange forests and distant valleys. And yet, somehow, we are all here together, huddled around one fire.

Aragorn takes his hand off of Legolas' and gently places it on his face. His is far more gentle then I could have ever imagined him to be. How few have known that touch? Legolas relaxes under the Ranger's touch. Bitter resentment clutches my chest. Who are they to find such peach amongst this sadness. The darkness returns to the core of my being. I pull the blankets tighter around me.

"How weary I grow of this conversation," Legolas says.

"I grow weary of this game," Aragorn counters.

"Then you prove yourself to be a poor player."

"You must forgive me for having the patience of a mere mortal." Aragorn bites on his pipe, his mouth slowly turning into a grin that I rarely see. "My mind is dark, indeed, my friend."

Legolas looks taken aback. "Dark?"

"Though times are dire, I must admit that I am thankful to be in your presence once again."

"I've missed you too." The statement is complex in its simplicity.

Suddenly Legolas touches the pendant. "She does not fear death." I can't tell whether it is a question or a statement.

"The same can be said of you."

"Even if I were able to give such a gift, I don't think that I would." The simple truth. "She is brave, Aragorn."

"Indeed, she is. Though, bravery is not enough to capture a heart completely."

Legolas shifts, allowing his body to relax fully against a tree. "No, it doesn't seem so."

Aragorn also allows himself to sit back, pressing close to Legolas as he does so. "You may not believe me, but I understand your burden." Aragorn says.

I have no idea how long they have known each other. Nor have I the slightest idea of the evils that they have faced together. There is a trust their that is undeniable, even if they have breached it with their actions.

"Spoken with the naivety of a true child." His voice is merry.

"Come," Aragorn says suddenly. He stands and looks down at his companion. A smirk pulling at his lips again as though he is a child that knows he successfully manipulated his parents.

Legolas glances towards me. If he notices that I am awake then he makes no show of it. "What of Frodo?"

"It is safe here, Legolas. He will sleep undisturbed tonight." He offers Legolas his hand. "Let's put aside our own burdens tonight."

"It shall never be just for the night with you, Aragorn." Legolas says but takes the Ranger's hand, regardless.

Using Legolas' momentum, Aragorn pulls the Elf towards him. Their lips meet and Legolas does not pull away. I close my eyes, allowing them their intimacy. They do not stay in their embrace for long.

"Nay," Aragorn says after a few seconds. "Never a night."

When I open my eyes, both the Ranger and the Elf are gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Something Vague  
Chapter Six

A/N: It's definitely been a long time since I've updated story. Hopefully, there is still some interest floating around this site. This chapter is a little more focused on Frodo but will find its way back to Aragorn and Legolas

* * *

The morning is calm. It's as though time has frozen. There is a slight realization that somewhere, outside these woods, time continues on. Dark armies are gathering their forces and Elves are making their way toward Grey Havens; For this moment, I can close my eyes and drift away from everything. Maybe, if I don't move, time will pass me by. Just as it seems to have passed by these woods. The times of old bear down upon me. Everything about Lothlorien reminds me of a world that I've never known. Of people who have only seemed as real as the stories that pass through the Shire.

I doubt anyone in the company can say how many days we have spent here. Has it been a week, three? If only we could get lost here. Stay buried under the golden leaves. Alas, it is a dream that can't be granted. A hope that only brings further sorrow into my heart. It's the realization that I don't belong here. Throughout this beauty, a stirring tugs at me. A stirring for my home, for Gandalf, for everything that was and will never be again. Shire folk are not accustom to such tragedy. We stay tucked away from the matters of the rest of the world. It's easy to disconnect yourself from the troubles that are not near. While I wasn't completely satisfied with life in the Shire, I was happy. Happiness seems like such a rare treat. I don't think I shall ever part with the sorrow that has perched itself upon my shoulders.

A sense of guilt passes over me when I think of returning to our camp. Sam expected me for supper last night. While these woods offer peace to their guests, I can imagine Sam clutching his concern to his chest. His worry never fails to bring a smile to my face. My loyal Sam. And I, his selfish master. Who only thinks of his own solitude and rest. Reluctantly, I gather the blankets. My pace is unusually slow. I can't imagine Sam being pleased with my disappearance. This may be my last remaining time for solitude.

The very thought of solitude brings a shadow into my mind. Scattered among these ancient trees are the individuals who have pledged to follow me. Without their aid, I'm afraid I wouldn't have reached Rivendell let alone Lothlorien. It's solitude that I long for and yet, would I be able to make it alone? There is little doubt that they are the gust of wind pushing me foreword. They move my feet onward when I want to collapse onto the ground. How long until the gust fades away?

Gandalf has fallen. The Ring can seduce the others. Will Aragorn succumb? He is my shield and yet, if he should try to take the Ring; nay, I will not allow my mind to wander down such a dismal path. Instead, I try to focus on the sun's rays, comfortably bathing my skins. The warmth takes away my dark illusions of Boromir and Aragorn. It replaces the illusions with visions of gold and silver. Soon, I'm afraid, we shall depart from these woods. When we're not surrounded by these wood, the time for somber thoughts will return. It's my hope that the whole company can keep their dark thoughts at bay for the duration of our stay.

Sure enough, Sam is awaiting me at our camp. The bags under Sam's eyes prove my assumption correct; he did very little sleeping the night before.

"Mr. Frodo," he says, rushing towards me. The concern is too evident in his voice. "Why, I was worried sick. Who knows what could have befallen you."

"Sam," I say, "There is nothing here that can harm us."

"Elven magic or no," Sam says, "You can't be too careful these days. With all these talks of shadows and Orcs roaming the woods, what would Gandalf think if he knew I let you go off on your own."

There is little else I can do but nod. Never have I felt so completely alone and yet, so guarded.

In the Shire, my life went on unnoticed. Bilbo never missed a night of sleep should I not return from the river before night fall. Now everyone is watching and trying to counsel me. What counsel can they give when no one understands this burden. They offer advice that furthers their own interest. It's to Sam that I turn towards for selfless loyalty. He is nearly done serving us the meat he had been preparing when he clears his throat. Nervously, he says, "I don't want to leave. All the same, I'm beginning to feel that if we have to go on, then we'd best get it over."

I put down the rabbit meat, "I know. It's just that, I'm so frightened to leave." Staying is only delaying the inevitable. Even if we were to lose ourselves here, our task would never fade. This haven is almost torture. Promising healing and rest that will have to be stripped away. Everything will be ripped away from us the moment we leave the safety of the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. Yet, even with this knowledge, it is difficult to take the first step. The step that will lead us back into the growing darkness.

Our conversation is cut short by the approach of Galadriel. Silently, she beckons us to follow. We don't hesitate. Down stairs, past green hedges and streams, we follow her. It's only until she reaches a small clearing that she stops. The sky is dark above, with the stars offering a shining light upon her and behind her, a silver basin. She fills it to the brim, not once glancing at us until she is done. "Here is the Mirror of Galadriel," she says. "I have brought you here so that you may look in it, if you will."

Sam seems frozen. I take the lead. "What will we see?"

She speaks in riddles. Offering nothing and everything. To my surprise, Sam accepts her offer to look into the pool. He doesn't speak as he glances into the water. Slowly, his body stiffens. He yells out in anger. He yells over people defacing our pastures, about devilry at work in the Shire, and then, he begins to weep.

"I must go home." He's desperate.

My body trembles. Before I can ask him what he saw, Galadriel offers me a chance to look in the basin. I almost reject her invitation. Something pushes me forward. I take my hand off of Sam's shoulder and approach the basin. The water is dark. It begins to clear and Gandalf comes into focus. I almost call out his name but realize the Wizard is wearing white. There is a pause and the image shifts to Bilbo. He is walking restlessly in his room. Is he thinking of me? Is he doubting my ability to destroy the Ring? Or is this before he disappeared from the Shire? I want to look away but then, a single eye appears. It paralyses me. The eye begins to pull me forward. All I can do is scream.

I'm thrown to the ground soon after. My chest is tight. Sauron. Even now, his power is reaching towards me. This is who I am to defeat? How long until the members of the fellowship are seduced by his power. My pulse races. How many have fallen before him. Thousands have died due to his wickedness. Now there is only one. One meaningless Hobbit is to overthrow the Dark Lord?

I clutch the Ring. Without hesitation, I offer it to Galadriel. I need someone to reject the Ring. A shred of hope within all of this despair. A sign that not everyone will crumble. That I do not fight alone. Her gaze doesn't move from the Ring. My breath stops. Finally, Galadriel rejects the Ring. She retreats from the basin. The Ring is still tightly held in my hand. Though I'm trembling, my heart feels lighter. There is hope yet.

Sam and I stay in the clearing for a long time after Galadriel leaves. My eyes don't meet Sam's. There is too much grief. For the first time, I question Gandalf's decision. Sam could have been home right now; resting his feet near the fire. Instead, he is quietly sobbing in a foreign land. While he will deny it, Sam was torn away from the Shire. He had no desire to leave. Who am I to demand such loyalty? His place is in the Shire and I push him towards the Dark Lord. I chance a glance behind me. Sam is still huddled as though touched by a vile chill. Undoubtedly, the others must share in his struggle and pain Why shouldn't they? This is not their quest. It's my own.

"My own," echoes in my head. With a squeeze of Sam's shoulder, I start walking up the stairs.

"Frodo-" he says warningly.

"It's only for tonight Sam. I need to clear my mind." My own still echoes in my head.

Too disturbed by his visions in the basin, Sam offers no more protest. I walk for many hours. The sky is growing light when I slow my pace. Everyone will be waking in a few hours and I can't find the peace to sleep. As I make my way back to our camp, I find Aragorn near a lake. I'm not the only one who can't find peace tonight. He beckons me closer. Estel, Strider, Aragorn which does he prefer? I can't answer such a simple question about someone I've been traveling with for many months. How little we know of each other. He can't think back to times when I've gone rafting or climbed the tallest tree in the Shire.

Now, we are both fighting our restless minds. I approach him slowly. Aragorn is a great man. Trouble came swiftly upon this land. He has not faltered. Not when he faced the Ringwraiths on Amon Sul or when faced with the Cave Troll. There was no fear just determination. Yet Aragorn is just a man. Trapped by his own doubts. Doubts that are caused by me. My fingers seek out the soothing metal of the Ring. Maybe there are certain decisions Aragorn will not have to decide.

The water is still until Aragorn gently submerges a tip of his finger into the pool.. The water seems to calm him. At this moment, Aragorn seems at peace; with the task at hand, with the trials of the heart, and the confusion that stems from our coming departure. It's as though the water is encouraging the ranger. If only I could find such tranquility in nature.

"You should be sleeping, Frodo." His own voice sounds tired. "We must begin gathering our strength and preparing for our departure."

His words make my throat dry. "I think we should all be resting. And yet, here we are. Unable to find peace in such a peaceful place."

He chuckles. "Rare is the man who can say he has no troubles during these times. What keeps you awake tonight?"

I think of telling him of my visions in the basin but can't bring myself to share them. "I'm not used to this strider," I say. My reflection looks small in the water. "There is so much against us. It seems nearly impossible to succeed."

"You are not the first to think such thoughts, Frodo," his voice is gentle. "Sometimes, it's best to push aside thoughts of success as well as failure. To focus on the road just before you. Anything else might drive you to madness."

"If only it were so simple." I shake my head. "I'm not meant for this."

He looks at me with understanding eyes. "And yet, this is your role. One that you cannot walk away from."

"To what end?" My finger cuts through the water. "Should I fail, the world will fall into darkness."

How odd to think that just a few months ago, everyone lived untouched by this Ring. There are still many who don't know the power that is rising. The growing shadow is just a rumor. The Darkness over Mount Doom is but a shudder before they go to sleep. Easily forgotten in the morning. Everything is threatened now because Bilbo acquired this Ring. Because I brought this Ring into the open.

"I'm sorry, Strider," I pull my hand out of the pool. "If it wasn't for me and this burden, you wouldn't be here either. You could be wandering the woods, untroubled by this mess."

"While I'm adept at walking in the shadow, it was only a matter of time before I walked into the light." His smile is tight. "There was no other course."

"I'm afraid that everyone will suffer if I should fail." it's the awful truth."Then we must be sure to not fail." He smiles at me and for a second, his words fill me with peace.I take a deep breaht. "What do we do now?""We push onward." I find relief in the word 'we.' He's not to go with Boromir, but will stay with the company. "The path is not clear but I am accustomed to walking in thick brush.""You are far braver than me."

The sky is beginning to lighten. Elven songs slowly seem to weave among the trees around us. They are too soft to hear clearly. The gentle sound is enough to put me in a state of sedation. Even Aragorn seems drowsy. Our sleepless minds are being overcome by the delicate harmony that is wrapping itself around us. Strider's eyes are heavy, like a man who had too much ale to drink.

"Frodo." I start at the sound of my name. I was looking at him for too long. There is a question in his gaze that unnerves me. Gandalf never needed a vocal answer to his inquiries. How much can Aragorn make out from my eyes alone?

"Do you think of her often?" There's no need to speak her name. "Daily.""And Legolas?" My question is bold seems to grow more tired. "He's not mine to think about.""And yet you do?"He nods. "And yet I do."

Maybe it's the drowsiness that is setting in upon me, but I don't hesitate to ask, "You loved him?"

Strider is taken aback by such a question. For a second, I doubt he will answer me. Then, quietly, he says, "I love him."

"Then the necklace?" The way Aragorn looks at Legolas reminds me of the way Sam looked at Rosie. I can't imagine Sam promising himself to another. I would think the same of Strider but evidence of the contrary dangles from his neck.

"A part of my heart will always be reserved for Arwen." Hearing Arwen's name brings forth an air of awkwardness. He licks his lips. "I fought for her," he says as though he is telling a sad joke. "I thought Elrond would have me leave Rivendell when Arwen returned from Lothlorien. I pursued her until he relented, and then, I fell for another."

"It was out of your control."

"Nay," Aragorn replies. "I didn't try fighting it. Many a time I sought out his company. Maybe I wasn't sure of my motives but the idea always lingered in my mind."

"Did she know?"

He nods.

"And she didn't make you stop?"

"She never said a word." His grief is obvious. "I think she knew that I made my decision," he says sadly. "Though, nothing has come of it. Legolas's fancy blew away with the wind. Everything we had was the naïve fantasy of a young man."

The song around us grows louder. It circles me and entices me sleep. Even Aragorn seems on the brink of sleep. I haven't been able to offer Aragorn much on our journey. Hopefully, with our conversation, I have offered him peace of mind; even if it's just for the night. With little else to say to Aragorn, I stand.

"I can't say I know much when it comes to matters of the heart," I say. "But I think you're wrong and Legolas loves you yet." Aragorn doesn't respond as I start walking towards our camp.

Sam is still asleep when I lie down. Even in his sleep, his eyebrows are clenched together in worry. Tomorrow, we leave these woods and continue on our quest. As I close my eyes, all the members of the fellowship creep into my mind. I see them laughing, crying, fighting, and simply trying to survive. The Hobbits linger the longest. I see us walking down dirt paths in the Shire and apple picking. They've been away from that life for too long. As the time comes to leave this land, the time for decisions fast approaches. I know what I must do. I just need to strength to do it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Something Vague**  
**Chapter Six**

Our pace is unusually slow as we drift down the river. When faced with the perils of the Dark Lord it's best to take your time, Frodo, I imagine Bilbo saying. He would probably be craving a pull from Old Toby and some roasted pork in his stomach. I can't find such pleasantries in food or smoke. Everything has started tasting stale and my stomach welcomes nothing. These are the details they leave out in stories of heroes. For two days we float down this river. The path we float down becomes increasingly monotonous. I can't tell the difference between the trees we pass now and the ones we passed an hour ago. They have lost their leaves to the coming winter. Their brown bark blurs together with the hills and dirt surrounding us on both banks. If I close my eyes, I see the dark shadows cast by the trees spreading towards the green pastures of the Shire. How long until this shadow captures sucks the color from my home? Sam looks from shore to shore growing more sullen by the moment.

"It's as though the very trees are against us," Sam nearly whispers. "Telling secrets in their silence.

"The only secrets they whisper are against Sauron," Legolas chides lightly.

"All the same, I wish for the darkness of Moria than the nakedness of this river.""Sam," I say, a bit too harshly. The mere mention of the mine makes my throat tight.

Gimli grunts and recounts Moria before she fell into darkness. No one responds and his voice soon fades away. All of the company seems preoccupied by the thoughts running through their minds. Aragorn's eyes are distant, no doubt relying upon Legolas to keep watch over passing dangers. He allows the oar to be guided by the river. Such lethargy is unusual for the ranger. Thoughts of his next actions must be conflicting in his thoughts are plaguing me. When we first left Rivendell, I believed I could complete this task as long as the fellowship surrounded me. Now, it's to myself that I turn to for support. But I am so very tired. What would I give to be guided as I am guided down this river. My only role, to sit and watch the passing scenery. My senses are still not trained to properly be on guard. The very land is turning against me and now the creature Gollum comes ever near. My time of safety is over.

Pulling along besides of us, Boromir allows his boat to float with Aragorn's. Something inside me shudders in Boromir's presence. Part of me thinks of leaning back towards Aragorn. Maybe I can lean back far enough to leave the Gondorian warrior's gaze. It seems that I can't lean back far enough and can almost feel his eyes locked on to me as though he is a hawk and I am just a mouse caught out in the open. While it pains me to harbor such distrust in someone, especially one assigned to the fellowship, I have been growing more wary of him since departing Lothlorian.

I chance a glance back at Boromir and see him staring into the distance. It's a rare relief to find him focused upon something else. It's also a relief that is short lived. Boromir grabs his oar and yells, "Aragorn, the rapids. We have rowed too far."

Aragorn yells for us to turn. The water rumbles beneath us. Before our paddles enter the water, we are pulled towards the raging rapids. My knuckles are white around the oar. The more we paddle, the less progress we make. Even Legolas and Aragorn are struggling to fight the water that is threatening to swallow us. Our oars slam against the water but they are nothing but twigs against the current.

Our breaths are louder than the water when we finally pull out of the rapids. Aragorn turns to say something but an arrow cuts through the air, barely missing Sam's hand.

"Orcs." Legolas yells. He fumbles for his bow but can't bring it out in the cramped boat. Once again, we fight against the water to get to the opposite bank. Part of me wants to sink to the bottom of our boat but I keep on paddling. As soon as we are close enough to land, Legolas leaps out of the boat. With steady aim, Legolas shoots his bow until all signs of our enemy has disappeared.

"The enemy is growing bold." Gimli says once the commotion has settled. He throws his axe next to his feet. "Let them try to attack Gimli, son of Gloin, in the open. Their head would fall before they lifted their swords."

"If they did not shoot us from the cover of darkness." Boromir says.

The warrior looks towards Aragorn who is far from at ease. Aragorn paces from Legolas to a near by rock. He neither speaks nor looks at his companion. Gimli begins to speak but Legolas halts him with a hand.

"We'll camp here." Legolas says.

Our night is sleepless. Everyone is instructed to be on guard. Pippin yawns with his sword in his lap. The weapon looks like a toy. What damage could he inflict upon the enemy? Merry nudges him every so often, making sure the youngest of the hobbits stays awake for the night. I clutch Sting every time I hear a noise but Aragorn ignores most of them. Legolas tilts his head every so often as if straining to hear a noise no one else in the company will notice.

"It's good to have your keen ears here," Gimli says, barely visible next to the coals. "I will sit more soundly knowing no enemy can approach without raising an alarm."

Boromir snorts. "Everyone has the ability fail us," he says bitterly. His silhouette quickly looks towards Aragorn. "We can't solely rely on the fellowship." No one responds, so he presses harder, "It's to the Ring that we must turn to in these dark hours. Foul creatures are gathering upon us and we huddle in the darkness like field mice. This is not the way of Gondor."

"And Gondor is falling." Legolas says.

"Legolas," Aragorn warns. Even the ranger doesn't like hearing of the troubled city.

Boromir snickers. "You seek counsel from a race that casts aside our great city," he says. "Tell me heir," he says bitterly, "what answers do you find in such haughtiness? Or have you been so blinded by their magic that you no longer care for the well being of your own race." His voice rises making me weary of nearby enemies.

The rest of the company sits still. Unsure if they should interject."Haughtiness is believing you can wield the Ring," Legolas says. "Have you learned nothing from the past? You would see everyone fall before you see the error in your ways."

"And you would sit idly by and watch as this world crumbles by forces you could have stopped. It's not my blood that has fallen to the Ring but with my hand, I shall rebuild what it threatens to take.""Enough," Aragorn snaps. "You forget yourselves. Do you forget the darkness that moved upon us earlier. Both of you would draw it back by childish bickering." He takes a deep breath. "Legolas," he says, "If you would so easily bring forth the enemy, it would be right if you scouted the area to see if they answer your call."

Without hesitance, Legolas stands. His frame is elongated by the shadow of the fire. For a moment, I think he is going to say something to our leader but decides against it. Instead, the elf walks away from our company.

"Gimli," Aragorn says after a few seconds. "Watch the camp." He takes off after Legolas and before anyone can protest, I follow.

The pair isn't far. They linger in a dense brush near our camp. At last, the night is giving way to the morning light but it does little to ease the shaking of my bones.

"We can't lose our tempers," Aragorn says. There are bags under his eyes. How many nights has he gone without proper sleep? "Things have grown too dire to fall apart now.""He is becoming a danger, Aragorn." There is no question who they are talking about. Part of me wants to walk up between them and agree. Boromir has become a threat. I have no doubt he would take the Ring from me."He is lost to desperation," Aragorn is almost reasoning with the Legolas. "He seeks only to help Gondor.""The darkness is growing in his soul, Aragorn. The Ring has corrupted him."

"I ask you not to cast him aside, Legolas." Aragorn tries to speak sympathetically. He wipes his brow. How stretched he might feel. Being ripped from his past to his future, almost being forced to choose between Boromir and Legolas. He places his hand on Legolas' shoulder in an attempt to pacify the elf's anger. "He believes he is acting for the good of his people."

"By succumbing to the Dark Lord?"

"By utilizing a weapon he believes can save them." Aragorn sighs and leans against the tree. At this moment, he doesn't resemble a ranger nor the future King. He simply looks tired. "You don't understand the sway of the Ring," he nearly whispers. "I would ask that you do not judge too hastily those that see its power."

The hair on the back of my neck rises. Aragorn's words almost make me want to flee from him. But where would I run? Back to the rest of the company? I Would find no peace of mind in the presence of Boromir. What would I do if I could no longer trust Aragorn, as well?

Legolas looks towards his feet. "Forgive me," he says quietly. "My words were not meant for your father."

"Aye," Aragorn says, "but they could have been."

"This comparison is poison," Legolas says. "Doubt is what will bring about your down fall."

"And ill-temper, yours."

Legolas smiles. He doesn't let the seriousness of their conversation subside. "You are stronger then you believe, Aragorn." He leans against the ranger. "I've seen the way you look at Frodo. There is nothing but loyalty in your gaze. You must let go of the deeds of your father."

Cast aside race and status and there is a common thread holding us together. Bilbo would often try to explain this to me when I asked how he found the courage to rescue the dwarves or face down an enemy along side them. How could I have anything in common with the heroes he told me about. Seeing Aragorn tired makes me understand. At the end of the day, we are all weary by the task before us. The only thing we can rely on is our will to push us foreword.

What would happen should I leave? The thought has crept upon me like an illness. The hobbits would be able to return home. I doubt they would find complete peace with the knowledge of the danger we are all facing but they could sleep without the fear of an enemy over taking them. Aragorn would surely follow his original path to Gondor. Their oath for protecting me is the only reason they have come so far south. I don't know all of their desires but I know well enough that none of them wish to walk towards the gates of Mordor. What aid could they truly offer? Gimli's strength and Legolas' aim will do little in the dark land. My resolve to gain entry to Mordor by stealthy means grows by the day.

"We must bare with the frustrations of the Fellowship, my friend. With Gandalf's fall, our path has altered. We must bear with Frodo and I must guess at the mind of a wizard."

"Nay," Legolas says with a hint tenderness. "To play a guessing game with the mind of a wizard would be foolish, indeed. You are to lead the company, Aragorn. Not follow footprints that have not yet touched the ground. The time has come for everyone to choose their path. I fear that Boromir has made his choice. As have you. The consequences will play out accordingly.""Things can change, Legolas. The stars are only a glimpse of what can occur. You read them too harshly.""That may be so. But I think you forget my age. For years, I have watched things changing toward this path. I have seen alliances crumble, beasts that have slept dormant awaken, and have watched hearts overtaken by darkness. Do you ask that I overlook the darkness growing in him?"

"I ask that you help me sway him from his path. Boromir is an able warrior, Legolas."

Legolas stretches his shoulder. It must be stiff from quickly targeting our enemy. I could scarcely see our assailants on the other side of the shore. His eye sight has been a blessing. I will losemuch security should I part with his company. Aragorn gently grabs his arm and straightens it. Slowly, he pulls it foreword and pushes various points on the elf's shoulders.

"We will do what we must if Boromir should prove harmful." Aragorn says, "until then, you must push aside your suspicions, my friend. For the sake of the quest, I ask that you let go of your distrust."

Legolas laughs. "I have already let go of many things for the sake of the task and the future of Middle Earth." He takes his hand away from Aragorn.

"Legolas-" Aragorn whispers. He leans towards his companion.

"I speak of a conversation not worth revisiting." Legolas mimics Aragorn's massage with his own hand.

"Yet, it is a conversation that can restore my hope. I don't doubt victory but I long for something to fight for."

Legolas shakes his head. "Destiny has claimed you, Aragorn. This is not a game for my amusement. It's the only solution. We must accept your role; Arwen's sacrifice. I don't have the ability to grant you any of her gifts."

Aragorn is silent. Then, "You did not refuse me."

"Nay," Legolas says. "I did what had to be done. We were both foolish to think our love could last."

"Never."

"To wish for times that have passed is both painful and hindering. I won't say that I don't think of them, for my mind often wanders to the days when duty stood at bay. Those times are no more. I will cherish those days but I will go on knowing they will not come again."

Even I find myself growing angry at Legolas' words. Who is he to cast aside happiness in these dark days. More so, who is he to keep happiness away from a man clearly needing a glimmer of something to fight for.

"Though, you want to?" Aragorn says. There is an urgency in his voice. He wants to hear the answer as badly as I wanted Galadriel to reject the Ring.

Legolas nods. "Though, I want them to." It's the only thing Legolas can offer him.

Suddenly, I hear my name being called in the distance. Sam's voice sticks out in the cluster. Aragorn and Legolas pick up on the calls, too. It quickly rips them away from their conversation. They unsheathe their weapons and begin running towards camp. I stop them before they make it out of the clearing.

"I'm here," I say, walking towards them. My voice is quiet, embarrassed for ruining their moment.

"Frodo," Aragorn says. His voice is relaxed. His sword is quickly tucked away. "The enemy is unaccounted for, walking alone is not in your best interest."

I don't tell him that I was listening and simply nod. "There was so much tension in the camp," I say, "I couldn't bear it."

Aragorn gives me a tight smile and squeezes my shoulder. "Just don't stray too far and let me know when you desire to wander off." He says in understanding. "But, for now, let's return to camp."

I nod my thanks. For a moment, I think of telling them to stay and finish their conversation. The realization that the darkest part of our journey is still in front of us has settled in. Everyone will need to find something to fight for. I keep my tongue still and simply follow in Aragorn's footsteps. Legolas walks behind me. Together, they form a protective pod around me. I know, that for this second, I am safe. It's a feeling that I thought I would never feel again.

I glance back at Legolas. He walks a little more relaxed, sensing no sign of trouble hidden in the many rocks around us. His face is calm, if I had to guess, I would say a long held wall is beginning to crumble. I find much peace in this idea. In seconds, our company comes into view. Sam rushes towards me. I expect a lecture but after looking me over for wounds, he simply nods. Once again, I think of leaving the fellowship and my throat closes.

"Shall we get on with it then?" Sam says, walking to his pack.

Dear Sam, he picks up his sack. I glance over at mine, and it seems bigger. Do I have the strength to carry it? Sam grabs it and brings it over to me. My loyal Sam. "Thank you," I say. I pray he doesn't hate me if I leave.


	7. Chapter 7

**Something Vague**  
**Chapter seven**

A/N: Thank you everyone for your reviews. It really helps to keep things going when I feel somewhat stuck with this story. After this chapter, there is only going to be one chapter (possibly two) left. I would like to make it longer but Frodo goes off on his own, which means his observations about Aragorn and Legolas comes to an end. Thanks for sticking with this story (I know my absence was pretty long). Now, my only trouble is figuring out to end this on a sad or a happy note. Also, this is inspired more by the book than the movie.

* * *

We quietly march until night fall. Aragorn had long ago began ignoring Merry and Pippin's request for second breakfast but now, we push foreword without breakfast at all. Even Gimli mutters about the rumbling in his stomach. Not to be caught complaining, he quickly saves himself with a story of traveling four days without so much as a scrap of bread. Gimli's story seem to satisfy his yearning for food but it does little to ease the stomach of the rest of our company.

Aragorn glances behind us. His features are grim. "We must quicken our pace," it's a quiet remark, not quite an order. "Legolas," he says louder. "Fall back. If you sense something, don't hesitate to shoot."

Legolas nods. He is straining to pick up on the source of Aragorn's worry but seems unable to detect anything. Perhaps stress has finally began eating away at our leader. Without questioning him, however, Legolas brings his bow to his side and allows the others to pass him.

Sam comes closer to me. Aragorn's anxiety seems to be rubbing off him. He is clutching the straps of his pack tightly. "Mr, Frodo," he says, keeping his voice hushed. "If anything should happen, run."

"Sam-"

"Don't look back," he says. He doesn't look at me when he speaks. His voice is even but he swallows hard, trying to keep him emotions at bay.

I have feared this conversation. Long ago, Gandalf told me that the Ring was more important than the safety of the fellowship. No matter what happened, I was to seek safety. I promised Gandalf I would. It's a promise I'm not sure I'll be able to keep. I have dark visions of fell beasts swarming upon us like bees. From land and the trees they run at us. Hundreds of black creatures. Aragorn and Gimli become overpowered. Boromir falls and they break Legolas' bow before he can take many down. We are defenseless. One of the creatures yells to find the Ring and I helplessly watch as they drag Merry, Pippin, and Sam away. How am I supposed to sit idly and watch as my friends are pulled to their deaths?

"Frodo," Sam says, almost demanding my attention.

I can't find the words to answer him so I nod.

"Very well then," he says. Sam doesn't leave my side but he doesn't say anything for the remainder of our walk.

It's well past midday before we come to a stop. Aragorn looks more relaxed but there is still a tension in him that is undeniable. He maneuvers us next to a side of a mountain. The walls are too steep for an enemy to climb down and it offers us a temporary wall of protection. Aragorn gives no orders to keep quiet or to stay close. Whatever was troubling him earlier must have departed. Taking advantage of their freedom, the hobbits search the outskirts of camp, looking for anything they might snack on. When their search fails, they return to their packs hoping to find something they missed. Gimli throws them a bag. Sam looks inside and his face lights up.

"It's what's left from Lorien," Gimli warns. "Don't go eating it all before morning comes."

They quickly nod their head. Gimli gives them a knowing eye and decides to keep watch over the rations as the hobbits quickly start going through it. Legolas and Aragorn take a seat a few feet away from the fellowship. They are close enough to act is something should happen but far enough away to have a hint of their own privacy.

Legolas inspects every arrow is his quiver. Slowly, he presses down on the shaft and on the arrowhead, looking for any sign of weakness. When he is satisfied with his arrows, he places them back in his quiver. Those that need tending, he leaves by his side. The archer is running low on arrows and may soon have to rely upon his knives. Though, truth be told, I've often expected him to run out of arrows and to this day, he still carries a decent amount in his quiver.

Aragorn sharpens his sword with a rock he has carried with him since Rivendell. "Be mindful of your targets," he says. His gaze remains on his sword, carefully looking down the blade.

Legolas doesn't chastise the ranger for questioning his judgment. "I thought I would shoot with my eyes closed," he responds.

Aragorn pauses, then laughs. "And your accuracy would still surpass mine."

"Keep focus on your blade, Master Swordsmen, and I shall do the same." He drops his playful edge. "We must all be careful," he says. "I haven't felt the presence of the enemy so intensely since Moria."

"Felt yes, but I've been unable to gauge their location. It's as though the land in cloaking them from us."

My spirit drops. This is stressful enough without having the enemy at our heels. Unlike the Mines, we can be struck from any direction. There are no walls to protect our backs or crevasses for the hobbits to hide in. I suspect that Aragorn doesn't expect anyone to hide. He armed everyone for a reason. Everyone chose to come and now they must accept their roles. My hand falls onto my sword. Sting has become as ordinary as a pair of trousers. No longer does the sheath irritate my thigh. My hands, however, are still unaccustomed to the feel of metal or the weight of the blade.

"We must be sure to keep them away from Frodo." Legolas says.

Aragorn nods. "I'm afraid he can no longer simply rely upon us for protection."

Legolas smiles. "I forget how easily humans can be distracted," his voice is light again. "I shall watch over Frodo. Just as I shall watch over you. For I recall making a similar oath to you."

"Little good your oath of protection did me," he says in mock anger. "I believe you did more harm to me than any sword or mace ever did."

"Then duty bids me to try harder," Legolas responds.

Aragorn stares at his companion, clearly unsure of what his friend is saying. Slowly, unaware of how to proceed, the ranger says: "That is a duty I would have you follow."

Boromir suddenly crosses my path. Unlike the rest of our company, Boromir doesn't seem to be taking advantage of peace surrounding us. He has grown more silent since our attack at the river. The warrior has adapted a habit of pacing. Occasionally, he will mutter something to himself, but not even Legolas can pick up on his words. Whether it's because they are gibberish or too low to hear, Legolas doesn't say. Aragorn has approached him a few times but has been brushed off repeatedly.

Boromir taps his chin and looks to Aragon. "Why do we not go westward." he calls out. His tone takes everyone away from their merriness. "We can cross into my own land. I know the terrain, we could make great haste."

Aragorn looks to Legolas and seems to sigh before he stands and walks towards the rest of us. "The enemy keeps a close watch over that region." He speaks quickly, as though he is not ready to focus back on our journey. "I would not chance it until Frodo decides the course of our path."

"We will not find a safer path," Boromir insists.

"I would not have us leave yet," Aragorn is firm, but not overly so. "Whatever our path, we need to regain our strength. You're right, we have passed into a dangerous land," he says. "Even more so since we can only guess at the evils lurking around us. Never have beasts walked upon this land but with Minas Tirith no longer secure, the enemy roams freely."

"How the days have turned evil," Boromir says. "We will see Gondor restored." For a moment, I see Boromir, hero of Gondor. His eyes are clear and his smile is genuine. Soon, his eyes darken however and a chill hits me.

"Aye," Gimli agrees. "We will remind any creatures that may pass us the strength and courage of his land." He taps at his axe with a grin.

"It's good to have your spirit, Mast Dwarf." Aragorn says, "But tonight, I insist that you rest."

Aragorn's advice isn't debated. It's decided that we will take watch in pairs. Gimli and Boromir take the first watch. I manage to sleep until I am awoken for my turn. It's with Legolas that I will finish the rest of my night. The night is silent. Not even the sound of animals cuts through the night. Legolas whispers that it's an ill omen. The only sound is of Aragorn turning in his sleep. It's the most restless I have seen him.

"He longs for his city," Legolas says.

I nod. "Gondor was his intended destination. If it wasn't for me, he would be heading towards the city."

"That may be so," Legolas says. "But don't chose a path that was meant for another. The choice between Mordor and Minas Tirith is yours to make. Aragorn will follow you and when the quest is over, he will return to his city of stone."

Legolas lingers on the word, "stone." Gimli would feel more comfortable among the walls of Gondor than Legolas. Legolas doesn't say any more. It dawns on me that this has been plaguing the elf for a long time. Aragorn's return to Gondor is the only end they have to their story. It's a harsh reality. To stay with Aragorn is to submit himself to a world of humans; to live amongst stones and rocks rather than the forest.

Legolas soon continues, "Even when he lived with the Dunadan, he kept watch over this land," Legolas says. "He has never completely been separated from it. It's time for him to step out of the shadows."

"How different his life will be." How different Legolas' life will be. Aragorn will no longer be free to roam the land. His attention tuned into the needs to the White City.

I want to ask what Legolas will do. Will he join Aragorn and forgo his own happiness or will he return to his kingdom and sail with his people. My heart suddenly grieves for him. How unhappy his fate shall be. Aragorn saw a hardened lover but Legolas had foreseen his future and was trying to spare himself pain. I don't know much about death but when Aragorn dies, they will be separated. Not even meeting in the afterlife. Perhaps, it's a fate Legolas is too scared to face.

"The city needs him," I say.

He nods. "Aragorn will make a good king." It's not a lie. Even if Legolas wants it to be.

Legolas seems distant. His mind, no doubt, has traveled to the future. Does he see himself standing besides the future king? Or does he stand with everyone else, silently grieving over a love that could not be.

Aragorn awakens, drawing out conversation to a close. He takes a moment to wake himself up before he approaches us. Sweat lines his forehead but the air around us is chilled. "My mind wanders," he admits as though we questioned him. "A shadow grows in my mind. Something draws upon us but I can't track it."

Legolas nods. "Aye, my spine tingles with warning and yet, nothing comes forth."

"Frodo," Aragorn says. "Draw Sting."

My eyes widen. "Is something upon us?"

"I hope that Sting will be able to tell us."

I pull out my sword. To my dismay, the edges are glowing. "Orcs."

"Aye," says Aragorn. "Near enough for Sting to sense but too far to place."

"They could be lingering across the river," Legolas says.

"Or possible a few scattered spies."

"Either way," says Legolas, "They are hunting us. They haven't caught our sent, or they would be upon us now."

Legolas doesn't have to tell me that a decision must be made soon. We must go south towards Minas Tirith or east to the edges of Mordor. Seven companions are willing to follow me to the dark gates. Seven companions are waiting for me to pick our course. Every one of them has their own desires but only a few have spoken aloud of them. Gandalf would warn me not to make a hasty decision. To ignore the others and focus on what I feel is right. It's hard to weigh out my options when I feel the pressure upon me mounting.

Boromir offers me rest in Gondor. I would be safe there, for a time. Safe from the hosts of the Sauron, that is. The warrior doesn't see the threats that linger near by. I believe Aragorn would have me to go the city, as well. It would be nice to sleep in a bed again. But rest will only hinder my quest. I look at the two men. Both their prides were beaming when they spoke of Mordor. I know what their hearts crave. I have no right to keep them from their desire.

They can't come with me. The pulse in my neck quickens. If they won't leave me, then I must leave without them knowing. Aragorn's voice lingers in the distance but I can't hear him. My focus is on my quickening pulse. The Ring will poison them all, just as it has poisoned Boromir. It will turn their resolve to follow me into bitterness. Without their protection, the hobbits would be put in too much danger. I couldn't ask them to follow me. I wouldn't allow them to follow me. Part of me knew I would have to finish this alone. It's no longer a question, I must leave the fellowship.


End file.
